


And Now This is Happening

by mldrgrl



Series: Adventures of The Lady Detective and The Writer [30]
Category: Californication (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Medical Conditions, all is not well here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 21:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11239623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: This comes after many requests for a Hanella fic about a misdiagnosis.  I'm calling this misdiagnosis adjacent.





	And Now This is Happening

“Mmm,” Hank murmured, stepping up behind Stella in the kitchen and pressing his face into her neck.  “You smell delicious.”

 

“That isn't me,” she said, wiggling her shoulders as he tickled her neck with his breath.  “It's the leftover pad Thai.”

 

Hank licked the side of her neck where the tendon crept up from her shoulder and she chuckled in spite of herself and shifted her shoulders again.  She stopped spooning leftovers from a paper container onto a plate for a moment to push him away.

 

“Definitely you,” he argued.  “Like apricot.  New body wash?”

 

“Yes.  Did you want me to heat any of this up for you?”

 

“I like it, and yes, please.  Fasting is cruel and unusual.”

 

“How come you’re home so late?”  She licked pad Thai sauce from her fingers and moved to the microwave.  “How did it go?”

 

“Meh.”  Hank shrugged.  “The usual.  Doctor copped a feel, told me to turn my head and cough, then he stuck a finger in my ass and didn't even buy me dinner.  Where I come from, if you're getting paid to stick a finger up someone's ass...well… I have to go back next week though.”

 

“Why?”

 

“More tests.  Wants a better look at my lungs.”

 

“What?”  Stella turned from the microwave with a frown on her face.

 

“No big deal.”  He shrugged again and reached for her, dragging her up against his chest so he could put his arms around her.

 

“What kind of tests?”

 

“Poke me with some needles.  Chest x-ray. Least I can eat this time.”

 

Stella pushed against Hank’s chest to break free of his arms and took a step back.  “What are you not telling me?”

 

“I'm not not telling you anything.”

 

“A chest x-ray?”

 

“My lungs sounded weird and because I was a smoker, Doctor Finger-Up-the-Ass wants a picture of inside.  Probably nothing.”

 

“You're not waiting until next week, that's unacceptable.  What's his number?”

 

Hank laughed and then he sobered when he saw the frighteningly angry look on Stella's face.  He pulled her back into his arms and locked his fingers behind the small of her back.  “It's all good,” he said.  “I feel fine.  Nothing to worry about.”

 

“You don't know that.”  She pushed him away again, but immediately stepped back against him and reached around to pluck his wallet out of his back pocket.  She turned her back on him and found the business card for the doctor’s office in one of the slots and pulled it out.  

 

The microwave beeped loudly as Stella shoved the wallet against Hank’s chest and left the kitchen.  He could hear her a few moments later, speaking firmly and forcefully, using her ‘this is non-negotiable’ tone as she stomped upstairs, but he couldn't hear what she was saying.  Hungry, he took the pad Thai out of the microwave, but after a few bites, lost his appetite and went upstairs to find Stella.

 

“You have an appointment tomorrow at half past ten,” Stella said when Hank walked into their room.  “I’m going with you.”

 

“That’s a little unnecessary, don’t you think?” he asked.

 

“No, I do not.”  

 

Stella pulled roughly at her blouse, untucking it from her skirt.  Hank tried to put his hands on her shoulders, but she shrugged him off and walked into the bathroom, unbuttoning her shirt.  She left the door open.  He sat down on the bed and kicked his shoes off.  When Stella didn’t come out of the bathroom after a few minutes, Hank went and stood in the doorway, watching her pull on a pair of sweats and a tank top.

 

“What if I had something to do tomorrow?” he asked.

 

“If you don’t consider your health a priority, go ahead and revert your appointment,” she answered.

 

“Please, be more patronizing, it’s really fucking attractive.”

 

Stella moved up to Hank in the doorway and crossed her arms.  She glanced past him and he took the hint, moving back to allow her to pass.

 

“I have work to do,” she said.

 

“Of course you do.”  Hank breezed by her and pulled his shirt off, tossing it on the floor close to where she stood.

 

“How can you be so blasé about this?”

 

“Because there’s no sense in getting worked up over what could be nothing.”

 

“And it also could be  _ something _ .  You’ve no right to say that.”

 

“No  _ right _ ?  I mean, this is  _ my _ health we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

 

Stella shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.  “This exactly why I never should’ve done this.”

 

“Done what?”

 

“Get involved,” she said, dismissively, walking out of the room.

 

Hank followed her to the top of the stairs.  “Well, I’m sorry you thought you could live your whole life without making a connection with someone just because you were afraid it would break.  That’s really sad, Stella.  And a little pathetic.”

 

Stella turned around stopped half-way down the stairs and then moved up one.  “If you’re not going to take this seriously for yourself, why don’t you think about your daughter?”

 

“Oh,” Hank said, stepping down so he was one step away from Stella.  “This is about your father.”

 

“Don’t bring him into this,” she snapped, turning around again and storming down the stairs.

 

“Don’t bring…”  Hank hesitated a few beats and then hurried after Stella, meeting her in the kitchen where she was shoving the pad Thai in the garbage.  “If you’re going to say something like that to me, it had better be about your fucking father,” he exploded.  “I may be an asshole and my relationship with Becca is tenuous as best right now, but what the fuck?  You think I'd just lay down and die and not give her a second thought?  That I don't give a shit?  All I know right now is that I need some tests and it's ‘probably nothing,’ to quote the good doctor.”

 

Stella dropped the plate she was holding into the sink and leveled Hank with a cool gaze.  She opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out.  She clamped her jaw shut, swallowed once and then licked the side of her mouth.  Her father’s voice looped continuously in her head, calm and clear, just like yesterday.   _ Nothing to worry about, Dearheart.  All is well. _   She blinked rapidly for a few moments and took a deep breath.

 

“I apologize for the insinuation,” Stella said, her quiet voice sounding loud in the deafening silence of the kitchen.  “Do what you think is best.”

 

“Stella…”

 

“I have work to do.”

 

Hank watched Stella step around him, careful not to make contact, and she went to the door to grab her attaché.  She pulled her laptop out and turned on one of the lamps in the living area and settled in a chair.  

 

Still agitated, Hank stomped upstairs and put his shirt back on and stepped into his shoes.  He grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him when he left.

 

Stella thought about stopping him, about offering him a better apology than what she just had, but she knew Hank needed his space after an argument.  Besides, she didn't feel very apologetic - not about urging him to take his health seriously, at least.  She opened a new file on her computer, labeled it Hank Medical, and started researching.

 

She started with broad information on lung disease and used it as a springboard to narrow her searches.  She used platforms that needed her credentials; private sites for pathologists and forensic scientists.  It wasn't long before she had to stop running down that trail.  She'd never been squeamish from crime scene or autopsy photos before, but the bodies were simply bodies; strangers to her.  Applying the same detachment to Hank was impossible.  

 

She made lists.  Lists of doctors and their specialties and credentials.  Lists of questions to ask.  Lists of steps to take based upon answers to those questions.  It helped, a little, to have some control over a course of action, to be prepared.

 

Hank came home quietly, stopping to look in at Stella.  She acknowledged him by raising her eyes as he removed his jacket.

 

“I’m going to bed,” Hank said.

 

“All right,” she answered.

 

“Are you?”

 

“Soon.”

 

He seemed to want to say something more, but didn’t.  The stairs creaked as he headed upstairs and she watched him go.  She turned off the light and continued to work in the dark until her eyes got tired and then she closed the laptop, but stayed sitting in the dark.

 

Round and round, Stella twisted the wedding ring on her finger.  It itched in the way her service weapon used to make her hand itch in the early days.  Like she wanted to use it, but didn’t want to have to.  She sat twisting the ring for a long time before heading upstairs.

 

Hank was asleep, sprawled on his stomach with his face smashed into his pillow.  Stella turned on the lamp next to the bed and sat down beside him.  The bedclothes were low around his waist and she touched his bare back, drawing her hand down his spine and then back up to squeeze his neck.

 

“Mmph,” Hank said, turning over and recoiling from the light.  “Whassappenin’?”

 

“We need to get married,” Stella said.

 

“Huh?”  He squinted his eyes open and struggled to push himself up, but gave up and flopped back down on the bed.  “We are married,” he mumbled, rubbing his face.

 

“This?”  Stella held up her left hand and then pulled the ring off her finger.  She dropped it onto Hank’s pillow.  “This is symbolic.  It doesn’t mean anything.  It won’t mean anything when it comes to hospitals.  Decisions.  Basic information.  Whether we like it or not, a contract means something.”

 

Hank yawned.  “We usually do the make-up sex thing, not make-up marriage proposals.”

 

“Would you stop being so god damn flippant?”

 

“Sherlock, it’s three in the morning and we’re not in Vegas, so I’m pretty sure we’re not going to find a drive-thru chapel around these parts.  Could we talk about it in the morning?”

 

“Fine.  As long as we talk about it.”

 

“Oh, believe me, it’s going to be at the forefront of my mind at a more decent hour.  Hey…”

 

Stella paused with her hand on the lamp to turn out the light.  Hank retrieved the ring from where it had slipped off his pillow and held it out to her.  She gave him her hand and he slipped it lightly onto her finger.  She put out the lamp and he pulled her down, scooting back into her usual side of the bed.  She laid down uneasily on her back and Hank wrapped himself around her like he sometimes did, like a creeping vine, with his leg through hers and their fingers woven together.  

 

“You'll go in the morning, won't you?” she asked.

 

He kissed her cheek and then mumbled into her shoulder.  “Whatever it takes to make you stop worrying so much.  It's like you've got me one foot in a fucking grave right now.”

 

“I'm trying to keep you out of a fucking grave.”

 

“Hey, I know if you wanted me dead you could do it and make it look like an accident.”

 

Stella didn't reply and Hank gave her a small squeeze of the hip.  She turned her head away from him and sighed.  He nuzzled her neck and settled down to go back to sleep.

 

“Hank,” she said, quietly.

 

“Hm?”

 

“My father told me not to worry about him.  He insisted all was well when it never was.  Even as he got worse, he made me believe he would be all right.”

 

“But, we don't know that there's anything to worry about.  Isn’t this what you do every day, Sherlock?  You gather whatever shit you need and make sure you have all the pieces before you make a move.  Why are you jumping the gun on this?”

 

“Because it's different.  It's different when it's about someone you love.”

 

Hank didn't have anything to say to that.  If the situation was reversed, he would probably feel the same, albeit a little more subdued about his fear.  He still wasn't particularly worried about the tests and wished Stella could relax just a little.  If he thought it would help, he'd try to make love to her, but something told him not to even try.  She was tense in his arms, the kind of tense a bad case drove her towards, when she would lay down at night because she had to, not because she wanted to.

 

Eventually, Hank fell asleep, but Stella stayed awake throughout the night, listening to him breathe, straining to hear something different, a missed clue that something was wrong and maybe she should've known sooner, but there was nothing.  She pressed her ear to his chest when he rolled away from her in his sleep.  His heart beat slow and rhythmic and her head rose and fell in time with his breath. Nothing unusual, not even a snore.

 

She got up before Hank, before the alarm went off, and grabbed her gym bag to swim some laps.  Swimming usually helped alleviate stress for her.  She left a note on the nightstand for Hank, telling him where she went and that she’d meet him at the doctor’s office.  Maybe he was right, maybe she was overreacting, but maybe he was underreacting as well.  She knew that sometimes, even catching something early was still too late.

 

The pool was blessedly empty and she was able to do her laps in peace.  There was something rather soothing about the feel of the cool water, the smell of chlorine, and the sound of her rhythmic strokes.  She felt more calm by the end of her exercise, ready to face the doctor and whatever news he may have.

 

Surprisingly, Hank arrived at the doctor’s office before she did, though she was usually the early one whenever they needed to meet anywhere.  He greeted her with a kiss and tugged on the lapels of her blazer.

 

“I missed you this morning,” he said.

 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answered.

 

“Well, then let’s go get this over with.”

 

The office allowed Stella to accompany Hank to the exam room, but the was taken away for the x-rays and blood tests, so she paced the small room, checking the notepad on her phone to review the questions she’d put together.  They were categorized by result: Lung cancer, emphysema, COPD, pleural effusion.  She wasn’t sure, but she may have frightened the nurse who took Hank down to radiology by demanding to know when they’d have the results and when they would see the doctor.  Fortunately for the young lady, the answer of ‘right away’ and ‘as soon as the blood work is done’ were the answers Stella was looking for.

 

Hank was gone for nearly half an hour.  He hopped up on the exam table when he returned, displacing the paper sheet.  She had taken a seat by then, leg bouncing nervously over her knee.  Another ten minutes passed while they waited for the doctor.

 

“Mr. Moody,” the doctor said as he opened the door.  Stella had seen his photo when she’d looked up his credentials the previous evening and he looked much the same.  Tall, thin, salt and pepper hair, salt and pepper beard, beak-like nose.  He seemed younger in person though, could possibly pass for early 50s though he had to be much older.

 

Hank subtly wiggled his pinkie finger at Stella and raised his brows.  “Dr. Cook,” he answered, nodding to the doctor and then bobbing his head towards Stella.  “This is Stella.”

 

“Yes, I’ve been told we had a concerned wife in attendance today.”  He smiled congenially and offered Stella his hand.  “Why don’t we go ahead and alleviate those concerns up front, shall we?”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Hank said.

 

Dr. Cook logged into a computer with a flat screen on the wall.  Hank’s x-rays appeared in separate panels.  The doctor clicked on one and expanded it to full view.  “X-rays are clear,” he said, tapping a key to scroll through each enlarged photo.  “It will take two or three days for the blood work to come back, but what I suspect is you may have had a touch of asymptomatic bronchitis.  Dust or allergen is the most likely culprit.”

 

“Bronchitis?” Stella asked, cautiously.  

 

“Mm, quite likely.”  Dr. Cook pulled his stethoscope off his neck and put it to his ears.  “Let’s just take another listen and see what we hear.”

 

Hank lifted his t-shirt and breathed in and out as the doctor asked, holding his breath when asked, exhaling on command.  The doctor removed the stethoscope and draped it back over his neck.  

 

“Still a slight crackle.  And no fever, cough or congestion at all recently or since you left yesterday?”

 

“Nope,” Hank said.

 

“Give us a ring if you develop any symptoms.  You’ll receive an email when the results of the blood tests and my office will be in touch if you’re needed for follow-up.  Otherwise, we’ll see you in a year’s time.”

 

“Thanks, Doc.”

 

Stella was quiet as they left the office.  She put her sunglasses on in the elevator, a signal to Hank that she was hiding from him.  It wouldn’t be that she was crying, that wasn’t like her, but she definitely didn’t want him to know where her head was.  He let it go until they got outside and headed in the direction of the Metro.

 

“So,” Hank said.  “All’s well that ends well.”

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

“And look at the bright side - my ass is off the hook for another year and now you won’t have to marry me.”

 

It took a few moments for Hank to realize that Stella hd stopped and wasn’t beside him.  He turned around and saw her standing a few paces away and went back to her.  She put her arms around him when he came close enough and put her head on his chest.  Startled by the gesture, he was slow to embrace her back, but he finally moved his arms around her and held her tight.

 

“Hey, now,” he said.  “Everything’s good.  You heard the doc.  Bronchitis.  Dust.  Maybe I’ll pick out a humidifier on Amazon later.”

 

“Would you?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll even pay for expedited shipping.”

 

“Would you marry me?  Legally.  With a license and proper paperwork.”

 

Hank pulled back and looked down at Stella, but she kept her head on his chest.  He rubbed her back and few times and nodded.  “Yes,” he said.  “Fuck yes.”

 

People passed them by on the sidewalk, some giving them dirty looks as they had to step around them to move on with their day.  Neither of them noticed.  Stella didn’t let go of Hank, so he didn’t let go either.

 

The End


End file.
